narrative poetry

Tom Chalmers rested his elbow on the donut shop counter and watched as customers filed through the early morning line ordering coffee, donuts, and bagels thick with cream cheese. No one complained about Tom’s habit of craning his neck for a clearer view of certain transactions — if they noticed at all in the rush hour hustle. Tom spoke to no one, but he did nod knowingly from time to time, occasionally crooking his brow. Only Bill Peterson, seated quietly at a table nearby, observed Tom’s routine with any depth of interest. After months of observation, he had finally achieved clarity regarding Tom’s behavior and found himself standing on the brink of a startling new theory that was sure to turn the entire donut industry on its ear.